


The Heavenly Host and Their Plans (which fall under varying degrees of success)

by LoudenSwain713



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is Michael and Lucifer's son, Castiel is confused, Dean Winchester is oblivious as always, Lucifer and Michael ship it, Lucifer was possessed by the Mark of Cain, M/M, Michael is just trying to be a good son, alternate season 5, so is Cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwain713/pseuds/LoudenSwain713
Summary: Sometimes Castiel stands in an empty field and reminisces about his childhood. It was different than the other angels', seeing as he was the son of the eldest two archangels. Then the Fall came and everything changed, and he lost his entire family. He had actually adjusted to not having anyone around to help him, but then he met Dean Winchester and his whole world changed. But of course the one human that maybe, just very slightly stirred something in him had to be his father's vessel. Dean Winchester, who was so imperfectly perfect, so unfairly untouchable. Life isn't fair, but then again, for Cas, it never has been.Comments, especially constructive criticism, are appreciated. Thank you for reading!(Previously under the title of 'Castiel: Child of Ice and Fire' but I just couldn't deal with that title any more. Not, of course, like this one's any better.)





	1. Chapter 1

“Michael, are you sure?”

“Yes, brother,” His voice was exasperated, as if he had answered the same question many times and was now growing tired.

“Ok….you’re sure?”

“Yes!” Michael focused his Grace on Lucifer, wrapping him in warmth and love. The younger angel sank into the caress of his brother, soon to be his mate.

“But Michael, this goes against everything Father has ever said to us! Are you sure you’re comfortable with such blasphemy?” Lucifer mumbled to Michael, letting just a fraction of his inner fears through to his brother.

“Hey,” Michael started, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I will love you for my whole life, regardless of what Father says or whatever else happens. No one will ever come between us. Before you came I was alone. Sure there was Father, but he was off building worlds, arguing with our Aunt. When you were created I was astounded by your love, your innocence, your humor, your light. And then you grew and my feelings changed to something that to this day I don’t fully understand. Even through all that there is one thing I am 100% sure of, and that is that I am hopelessly, irrevocably, completely in love with you. That will never change, I promise. Do you understand me?”

Lucifer stared at him silently for a minute, and Michael started to worry he had said something wrong when the younger archangel captured the other in a searing kiss. Their tongues battled in a fight for dominance, one which Michael “allowed” Lucifer to win. Michael pulled away entirely too soon for both their likings, but they were there for a different reason.

The two looked at each other, and Lucifer, with a steadying nod from Michael, sent a tendril of his Grace toward his brother. Michael took a piece of his Grace and touched it to Lucifer’s. The two pieces of Grace were alone in the air, and Lucifer’s white and Michael’s blue swirled together, mixing, melding, combining. Lucifer’s breathing was slightly heavier than normal with the force of keeping his grace in place. Michael was faring little better, though he was slightly more aware of the outside world than his brother was at the moment.

After a few more moments, when the two bits of Grace were one, the two finally withdrew, Lucifer slumping against his brother. It took all Michael had to not collapse, but Lucifer needed him, so he didn’t. After the archangels had caught their breath they looked at the thing they had created together. It was a baseball-sized sphere of glowing, bright Grace. Not quite blue, not quite white, it was closest in color to ice in shadow. Lucifer tenderly extended a hand covered in Grace to hold the ball. When he touched it his heart melted.

“Michael, he’s ours. I mean, I know that he is, but...Michael, we have a fledgling!”

Michael smiled at his mate and their fledgling. “I know, Luce, I know.” The archangel wrapped an arm around Lucifer, his older brother/mate instincts telling him to protect his brother. “What shall we name him?”

Lucifer looked hard at the tiny bundle of Grace. “How about Castiel?”

“Perfect.”

In the back of Lucifer’s head a dark, evil thought whispered its way through his being. “They will betray you. They will grow tired of you and they will leave you.”

Lucifer tried to ignore it. They were getting louder

 

Castiel was a well-loved fledgling. By the time he was the angel equivalent of a toddler, his powers were revealing themselves to be the same as his fathers’, and he was smart, smart and stubborn. Gabriel took to him almost immediately, teaching him about pranks and tricks, much to the chagrin of Michael. Raphael was slower to come to realize that this bundle of energy and feathers was his nephew, but once he did it was rare to see the young angel out of the supervision of his eldest uncle. Though Michael and Lucifer were worried about their Father’s reaction to their child, they needn’t have been. He knew about Castiel’s existence before he was even created, and knew that this small fledgling would play a very large part in His Plan. When Castiel had first seen his Grandfather, he ran up to Him immediately, tugging on His hand. All the archangels froze, but their Father just bent down and picked up the small angel.

“Hello, Castiel. How are you today?”

The little angel chirruped, “Good, Uncle Gabriel took me to see the stars, and Father showed me around Heaven.”

“And what did you think of Heaven?”

Castiel had taken a moment to answer. When he did, his Grandfather had laughed. “It's bright,”

Grinning, He handed Castiel to Michael. His eldest had opened his mouth to speak, but his Father shook his head. “Later,” then He was gone.

Both Michael and Lucifer exhaled shakily. They were dreading the talk they would have with their Father, but they were also glad He hadn’t smote them. More than that, they were relieved He hadn’t smote their Little One.

Gabriel had looked at his brothers in sympathy. He walked up to them gently. “I’ll take Cas for a while, if you two want to relax.”

Michael was about to agree but Lucifer interrupted before he could even speak. “Thank you Gabriel, but I think it would be best if Castiel stayed with us for a while.” While he said this he was taking Castiel from Michael’s arms, and, after he had the fledgling, disappeared without a word. The three remaining archangels stood there for a few seconds with shocked expressions before Michael flew after his mate.

Gabriel turned to Raphael. “Do you have any idea what that was about?”

Raphael shook his head wordlessly. After a moment the brothers flew away to their preferred areas of the Garden.

 

A few days later Lucifer was still ensconced in his and Michael’s nest. Michael had tried repeatedly to get him up, but his brother seemed determined to stay where he deemed it was safest for his fledgling. One night Michael was getting ready for sleep after a long day managing Heaven when he heard muffled sobs coming from his nest.

He stopped what he was doing and immediately ran over to his nest. The scene which confronted him was a strange one, at least to him. Lucifer was curled up around a sleeping Castiel. Tears slipped down Lucifer’s cheeks, and Michael instantly leapt into overprotective mate mode.

“Lucifer? Are you alright?”

A muffled “no,” made its way to Michael’s ears.

Michael sat down on the nest, gathering his mate into his arms. “What’s wrong, Luce?”

“They keep talking to me. I just want them to go away.”

Michael was alert immediately. “They? Who's they?”

Lucifer turned to face away from his child and towards his mate. “The voices started after we locked away Aunt, right after Father gave me the key. At first they were quiet, just tweaking Father’s thoughts, barely anything wrong, but now they whisper treacherous things, words about you and Cas and Father, and, Michael, I’m starting to believe them. I just want to go back to how it was before. Michael, what if Father punishes me?”

These words caused turmoil in the eldest archangel’s mind. On one hand, Lucifer was his mate and his brother, and his main job is to keep him safe. On the other, if what Lucifer said was true, and he was having doubts, then maybe Father should punish him.

 _No_.

As soon as he thought it Michael recoiled in horror. This was Lucifer he was talking about, he would never betray Father, and if he did, well...he was family. Michael was loyal to his family.

Coming out of his headspace, Michael ran his fingers through his mate’s hair. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll keep you safe.”

Soothed by the words of his mate, Lucifer nestled closer to Michael. Neither of them knew this would be one of the last nights they spent together.

 

Within the next few weeks God was seen less and less in Heaven, causing ferment in the ranks of angels. All four archangels worked to calm their younger siblings, but they didn’t get much accomplished. The truth was that they themselves weren’t entirely confident in why their Father was spending so much time away from them. Their father’s intention was revealed a few days later when he assembled the Heavenly Host.

Castiel was flying with a group of angels that were physically older, though not mentally because they had been created at the angel equivalent of young adulthood, than him. This was normally forbidden, but due to Castiel’s position as the child of Lucifer and Michael he was given certain freedoms. The angels, unusually lively compared to the other, more mature celestial beings, were twisting, leaping, and racing. Laughing, Castiel immersed himself in their games. Suddenly, Gabriel appeared and the group of angels froze in the presence of the archangel. He grinned, “I appreciate the respect, but it’s not necessary. That being said, Father has summoned the Host to the Garden. He needs you there as soon as possible.”

The angels started to move away, but Gabriel called out once again. “Oh, and Castiel, stay here.”

The young angel reluctantly reversed his motions, flying slowly to his uncle. “Yes?”

“Your father wanted me to relay a message to you.” His tone was stern and serious.

Castiel looked straight into his uncle’s eyes, silently daring him to continue.

The stern expression on Gabriel’s face lifted, revealing a bright, cheery smile. “You can come to this assembly-”

He was cut off by Castiel’s incredulous voice. “Really? Father said this?”

Gabriel chuckled, “Yes, really, but you have to stay with him, your dad, or me.”

Castiel deflated slightly at this additional information, though he accepted this new freedom with enthusiasm. “Yes, Uncle. Can we go now?”

Gabriel laughed, “Come along then,”

 

They arrived in the Garden just as the last stragglers came into the great throne room. Creeping behind backs and out of sight they made their way to where Raphael, Michael, and Lucifer were standing. Cas and Gabriel slid behind Michael and Lucifer, preparing to shock them, but, almost simultaneously, the two eldest angels turned around smoothly, exasperated looks on their faces.

“Really, you two? You both know that won’t work on us.”

Both Gabriel and Cas remained poker-faced, expecting Lucifer to expand on Michael’s comment. When he didn’t they glanced at him and saw a brooding expression. “Are you ok, brother?” Gabriel whispered.

Lucifer shook, as if coming out of a trance, and his expression cleared so quickly Castiel felt he might have hallucinated it, if he could hallucinate.

“Yes, I’m fine,” but his voice sounded distant. There wasn’t time to question it though, because at that moment their father entered the room.

“Children,” his voice boomed, “today I have created a new being. They will be called humans, and there will be a day when you shall have to serve them. To show your allegiance both to me and them, please, kneel.”

Castiel glanced to Michael and his father nodded, so he lowered himself to one knee. Slowly, one by one, the lesser angels followed suit, kneeling to pledge themselves to their father’s cause. Soon only Lucifer was left standing, and Michael lifted his head to speak to his brother.

“Luce, what are you doing? Kneel!” He was pleading, but Lucifer ignored him, stepping forward to face his father.

“I will never bow to lesser beings than myself! You are wrong, and soon you will see the error of your ways. We are the superior beings, not them, those mindless apes.”

With that the Morningstar turned and strode confidently toward the door, pushing the still-kneeling angels aside Michael made to follow him while Castiel clung to Gabriel, but God shook his head. “Lucifer has made his decision, you have made yours. You are divided now, do not expect to be one again soon.”

On Lucifer’s way to the exit, some angels, the outcasts, the loners, followed him, abandoning their siblings in favor of their opinions. The doors slammed behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the difficult legibility. The indentations were not showing, and I just decided to get it out there.

Stunned, awkward silence filled the hall before their father finally dismissed them. The archangels had to stay behind and discuss the betrayal, but since the conversation wasn’t deemed “Castiel-friendly” the angel was sent along with another throng of angels, the last one to leave the hall. They were a rather raucous group, but Castiel didn’t mind, one of his best friends was among them, an angel named Balthazar. Castiel was angry that he couldn’t listen to what his father and uncles were saying, but it was only when he looked back at his family that he realized what they were saying wasn’t really a “Michael-friendly” conversation either. He wanted nothing more than to run back and tell his father that everything was okay, but of course it wasn’t, and of course he couldn’t.  
Plodding beside Balthazar, Castiel mulled over the events that had just happened. He was broken out of thought by his friend. “You ok, little one?”  
Too upset, Castiel failed to recognize the concern and sympathy in Balthazar’s voice. He scowled, “Just because I'm smaller than you, doesn't mean you can talk down to me, I'm still your superior!”  
Shocked, Balthazar froze before nodding in acknowledgment. He was right, of course, being the son of Michael and Lucifer did grant him the title of archangel, but Castiel normally didn't voice this. Normally, he didn't even care. Balthazar knew the reason for his outburst was the rebellion of Lucifer, but it still hurt. By this time they were well out of the hall, having flown quickly, and split off from the group. They flew toward one of their favorite places in Heaven, a garden, not the Garden, but it was similar.  
Castiel got there first. He sat there, on a branch of a tree overlooking the Fields of Heaven. The Fields would encompass every individual heaven, though they were empty now, seeing as nothing had died yet. Suddenly, a wave of sadness and betrayal overwhelmed him. He slumped against the trunk of the tree, rebellious tears falling from his eyes. All at once the reality of the situation hit him. His dad wasn’t going to be able to come back, ever.  
Balthazar arrived then, and upon seeing the angel’s state, wrapped his wings around him. “It’ll be alright, Castiel.”  
Castiel snorted but accepted the reassurance. He knew he needed it. 

Back in the Garden, the three remaining archangels and their Father were speaking. Or rather, Gabriel, Raphael, and God were, Michael was just pacing back and forth. “Father, what will become of Lucifer?” Gabriel asked, worry seeping into his attempt at formality.  
His Father looked away for a moment, and if the angels hadn’t known any better they would have called his expression pained. “I have created a...cage in Hell just for this occasion. He will be placed there for the foreseeable future.”  
Michael stopped midst his pacing, turning to face his Father. “Hell? Really, Father? Is that necessary? I know he disobeyed, but…” His voice was desperate, disbelieving, but it soon turned angry as he realized the implications of his Father’s words. “You knew? You knew that thing would corrupt him? Lucifer was in pain, and he was confused, and you knew! You stood by and did nothing!” Michael was yelling now, snarling in anger and hurt, “You are cruel.”  
The Lord shook his head sadly, defeated. “Only to be kind.” His next words deepened the blow He dealt to His sons, further cementing Michael’s cold nature. “And it will not be me who casts him into the depths.” He stared deeply into Michael’s eyes, those infinitely wise eyes which widened in horror.  
But it was not Michael who spoke out against his Father, it was Gabriel. Gabriel, who was the youngest, the messenger of the Lord, the brother who wanted nothing more than a happy family. “You can’t! Father, please, you can’t. They don’t deserve this!”  
God looked at the eldest, straight in his eyes, and said words that, combined with the previous phrase, no one wishes to hear. “But don’t they? See, this is Lucifer’s punishment, for betraying me, and yours, Michael, for not stopping him.”  
Michael didn’t even try to stare his Father down. He gave in. “Yes, Father,” he said, turning away to prepare.  
Far below Heaven, on a rock not yet filled with sin, a snake slithered into a garden.

As soon as His archangels left, God sighed. He couldn’t believe that his most beloved son actually gave into the Mark. Yes, He knew it was a possibility, but Lucifer had never let Him down before, why should he now? That was His reasoning then, of course, and God almost laughed at the magnificent stupidity of it. And Michael...Michael did not deserve any of this, none of them did. He was blinded by love, something which God had underestimated and never would again. It hurt, obviously, but this whole charade, this charade of cruelty and nonchalance and all-knowing-power, was all a part of The Plan. The Plan was what was important, and He knew He mustn’t forget that.  
He really wished that Castiel would not have to go through so much to gain the power he was meant to. He quite liked the little angel, with his bubbly, innocent nature, and his fiery, passionate actions. It was a pity, the tragedies he would have to go through to achieve happiness, but it couldn’t be helped. Actually it could, but not without the destruction of The Plan, and The Plan, as He had to remind Himself occasionally, was all that was important.  
And there was the matter of Gabriel and Raphael. Their destinies, as He sometimes realized, weren’t entirely necessary to The Plan, but they were already in place. Changing them would require work, and as a wise prophet in the 21st century would say, “Writing is hard,”

Gabriel vanished a few days after the meeting. In the chaos, his disappearance was almost missed, and this was undoubtedly why he chose that day to leave. Michael was switching back and forth between going over drills and crying his eyes out, Raphael was doing his best to manage the ranks of angels, Lucifer was busy plotting against his Father, and the lesser angels were simply out of the loop. Castiel was the only one who might notice the disappearance of his uncle, and he did, but no one would listen to him. They were too busy grieving and writhing in anger at the betrayal of their siblings that they seemed to forget Castiel had lost the most of anyone, he had lost a father, and now an uncle.  
Anyway, when Lucifer and a decent sized group of his fellow betrayers, slightly less than 200 angels, appeared in Heaven, they were immediately swarmed. They fought viciously, but always in the center of the swarm, untouched and almost smug, was the Morningstar. Both sides lost many that day, but when most of Lucifer’s side had been either killed or captured, the true battle commenced.  
Michael stepped into the clearing made of pulsing beings, his entire entity bathed in an ethereal power. “Lucifer,”  
“Brother,”  
Lucifer almost flinched at the malice in his own voice, but of course he couldn’t, seeing as the Mark controlled his actions. He marveled at the changes wrought within a week. Just a few days ago they were as close as ever, but the announcement of the creation of those humans, those stupid, selfish beings that thought themselves as great or greater than him, Lucifer, activated the Mark. Ok, so maybe he already harbored a slight grudge against any of his Father’s other creations, but who could blame him? He had already been established as the favored angel of God, he should not have to bow down to any lesser beings.  
These thoughts distracted him, and before he knew it, his older brother was upon him, blade thrusting into his Grace, slicing his wings. Lucifer screamed, a scream of pain and anger and apology. For a moment, the Morningstar broke through the restraints of the Mark, and for a moment Michael gazed in his brother’s eyes and realized what he had done. For a moment Michael shed a tear for the loss of his brother and his mate, and for a moment he almost reached out to grab Lucifer’s toppling body, but he didn’t. And then the moment passed and the first angel to Fall was indeed falling, and betrayal flashed across his eyes before he tumbled out of sight.  
Michael stumbled back, his blade clanging to the ground, and suddenly there was Castiel running toward his father, pulling him away from the eyes of the other angels, comforting him. Dimly, deep in the back of his mind, Castiel thought that maybe the situation should have been reversed, that someone else should be doing the comforting, not Castiel. It was not to be so, of course, and wouldn’t be, not for a long time, not until a certain Winchester came along, but that’s a tale for another time. 

Millennia passed, and Heaven changed. The heavens filled with souls and Michael reigned at the top of it all, seemingly indestructible and resolute. He wasn’t, of course, but he had to appear so. God had left them, all of them, shortly after Lucifer’s banishment, disappearing, or so Michael thought, to a different universe. In reality, he just skipped a few thousand years and blended in with the natives.  
Raphael became colder, stronger, and more distant. He still did his part as brother and member of the Host but preferred to control from far away. He pushed Michael in some directions, pulled him in others, but his hand was always there. His older brother was aware of this, how could he not be, but he hardly cared. After a lifetime without his mate next to nothing mattered. Sure he hid behind pretenses of, “I have to complete Father’s wishes,” and “Father commanded the fight between myself and Lucifer,” but really he just wanted his brother back.  
Meanwhile, Castiel grew. What was once a bundle of fluffy down was now a trained, battle hardened warrior. Desperate to prove himself to his distant father, he fought hard, winning each and every battle against the enemy. Most of the angels didn’t know of Castiel’s parentage because, after Lucifer’s Fall, Michael, overcome with grief, erased from everyone’s minds his relationship with Lucifer. The only ones allowed to remember were Metatron, Raphael, and Castiel, the rest were considered insignificant.  
It was for this reason that the angels were somewhat surprised when Castiel, little, unimportant angel #3 was tasked with rescuing The Righteous Man from Hell. They were further surprised when he was tasked with supervising Dean Winchester.  
Whatever their thoughts, and whatever Castiel’s own view on the matter, it does not change the fact that when Sam killed the demon Lilith his entire world changed. Torn apart by loyalty, faith, and love, Castiel is positioned in between his warring parents. Castiel doesn’t know how many times he’s thought that if the two archangels would just talk this all could have been taken care of millennia ago. On top of that, there’s the wonderful, irritating mystery that is Dean Winchester, oh, and the reappearance of the uncle that he believed to be dead for the past entire existence of humanity. Castiel really isn’t looking forward to these next few months.


	3. Chapter 3

The worst thing about dying, in Castiel’s experience, had been the act itself. Some people lie, try to make themselves seem braver than they actually are, but unless you’re dying of old age or something quick and oblivious like that, the dying is the worst part. Not the pain, Castiel had handled worse, but that sensation of losing who you are and becoming one with the dead. He had only experienced the feeling a short while thanks to his mysterious resurrection, but it was one of the scariest things he had ever felt. He would never confess this to the Winchesters, of course, and certainly not to Dean, the man already had enough on his plate.

When Castiel was pulled back together, the first thing he did was not go see the Winchesters. He knew where they were, sure, but he needed time to think, even if just for a short while. Actually, scratch that, he didn’t need time to think. He would have preferred it, but other, more important matters, were at hand.

Silent and invisible he slipped into Heaven, making his way quickly to his father’s quarters. Logically, he knew it wasn’t wise to appear in Heaven so soon after his uncle smote him, but he trusted in his ability to stay hidden. That, and he needed to know why he wasn’t, how do I put this delicately, blown into a million bloody pieces.

He arrived at Michael’s rooms still invisible. Castiel planned to reveal himself immediately, but that thought was destroyed as soon as Raphael strode into the room.

“You wanted to speak with me, Michael?” he said submissively. Now that Michael was consciously aware of Raphael’s deception, he marveled at his previous obliviousness.   
The eldest archangel was not in the mood to deal with his brother, and he made his opinion known. “I will no longer tolerate your disrespect, Raphael.”

Raphael chuckled, seemingly confused. “Disrespect? I don’t know what you mean.”

Michael worked his jaw, moving closer to his brother. “You want me to give you an example? Ok, how about disobeying me, tricking me, and, I don’t know, obliterating my son! Is that good enough for you, brother?”

Even though it was the completely wrong moment, Castiel felt a burst of pride as his father defended him. After Lucifer left, it was like they weren’t even related. Michael had sunk into a shell of solitude, and it was only after God left and chaos reigned that Michael stepped in. He still had a duty, and he was the good son, after all.

Raphael’s stance changed from one of submission to one of smug control. “He disobeyed your orders. He is disobeying Father’s order by stopping this “apocalypse” as the humans call it. If you think about it, he’s almost as bad as Lucifer.”

Both Michael and Castiel almost smote Raphael then and there, but Michael froze mid-step and Castiel felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, causing him to stop and nearly double over. Dean.  
Michael’s eyes and voice hardened to a consistency not unlike steel. “Get out. I will not lose another brother, but I will no longer associate myself with you. Leave, or I will make you do so.”  
“You are a fool, Michael. You cannot play both sides, no matter how much you want to.” Raphael disappeared.

Content that everything has fine, relatively anyway, Castiel flew to the aid of De-the Winchesters. He had gotten the information he needed to, and now he knew it wasn’t Michael that resurrected him.

 

Dean was writhing on the ground, coughing up blood. That stupid angel seemed to tower over him, a smug, self-satisfied look on his face. “Go to hell, Zachariah!”

The angel smirked at him. “I wish I could say the same, but you aren’t going anywhere. Are you sure you don’t want to give up yet? You can still save your brother.”

Those were the words that, every single time, made Dean think twice. His eyes flicked towards Sam, and Dean could almost hear the pleading in his nonexistent voice. Don’t do it, Dean. I’m not worth it.

Dean would’ve yelled at Sam if he had had enough energy to do so, told him how utterly stupid he was being, but as it was it was all Dean could do not to curl into a ball and cry. He opened his mouth, but just as he was about to speak Cas appeared. A few seconds later the two angels that had accompanied Zachariah lay in a heap on the ground. 

Zachariah turned around in shock. “How are you...”

Castiel scowled at him. “Alive? That’s a good question. How did these two end up on that airplane?” he gestured to Dean and Sam, his eyes flicking to Dean’s pain filled face. “Another good question, ‘cause the angels didn’t do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?”

Zachariah stared at him in disbelief. “No. That’s not possible.”

Castiel allowed himself a sadistic grin. “It scares you. Well, it should. Now, put these boys back together and go. I won’t ask twice.” The end of his words turned into a growl, and Castiel let a little bit of his ‘I'm a powerless little angel’ facade slip, the strength of his full Grace shining through for a second.

Zachariah wet his lips slightly and, with one last glance at the Winchesters, fled.

Sam inhaled deeply and sat up, Dean following behind him. They looked at each other, then at Cas, then at each other again, just to make sure this was really happening.  
“You two need to be more careful.”

Dean stared at Cas, half in disbelief, half in some other thing he’d rather not name. “Yeah, I'm starting to get that. Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought.”

Castiel resisted the urge to say something like, “They aren't my brothers,” but decided against it, it wouldn't have helped matters. Instead, he stayed on the topic of utmost importance. “I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel, and once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you.”

As he said this he stepped closer to the Winchesters, eyes meeting Dean's for just a moment before he looked away. He extended his hands, emblazoning his language on their ribs. Sam and Dean winced, and Castiel, despite knowing they've dealt with worse, felt sorry for them.

Dean grasped at his ribs. “What the hell was that?”

“An Enochian sigil,” Castiel said, as if it were obvious and could be nothing else. “It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer.” His gaze once again drifted to Dean, and it took conscious effort to rip it away.

“What, you just brand us with it?”

Cas looked at Dean with a straight face. “No. I carved it into your ribs.”

The brothers looked at the angel in shock. Had they heard right?

Sam, finally coming to the realization that first, he had lungs, then he didn't, then he did, then Cas came back, then he got freakin’ angel words carved onto his ribs, asked a very important question. “Hey, Cas, were you really dead?”

Castiel looked down, nothingness once again filling his head. “Yes.”

Sam's face was etched with pity and confusion, but it was Dean's eyes that told the most. He knew what it was like to die, to be blown to shreds and get pulled back together, slowly, painfully. He knew what it was like to lose yourself in the darkness, in the fear of falling even deeper than you already were. He knew all those things, but he did not feel sorry for Cas. He knew the angel did not need pity, did not want it. That said, a little concern never hurt anyone.

“Then how are you back?”

Castiel glanced down again, pain and confusion filling his blue eyes. He glanced at Dean to find solace but did not see any. That was fine, he didn't expect to. Suddenly, the pressure became too much. His dad was back, his uncle had tried to kill him, his father, who he thought had mostly forgotten him, defended him, and now at least one angel had an inkling of his true status. It was too much, too much for one explanation all together right after the three of them had almost died. He flew away.

 

Lucifer wasn’t lying when he told Nick he was special. True, the man wasn’t his true vessel, but anyone that didn’t immediately disintegrate while housing an angel, especially an archangel, gained his respect. He felt slightly bad for possessing Nick, but on the other hand, if Nick hadn’t said yes he would’ve most likely spent the rest of his like in a drunken, depressed stupor. Losing your family would do that to you, and none knew better than Lucifer.

Lucifer debated killing Nick shortly after he possessed him. Not for any malicious reasons, but because an afterlife in Heaven would be better than being chained to a comet. Ultimately he decided against it, believing that the angels would not treat the man kindly for giving into the adversary. He was right, but that did not make his decision any easier. The archangel felt a certain kinship with Nick. Lucifer had lost everything, so had Nick. They understood each other.

Shielding the human from the worst of the pain, Lucifer flew away. He did not want to fight Michael, but until Lucifer made his brother see sense, he might as well prepare.

 

Zachariah appeared in Michael’s office shortly after Castiel’s reappearance. The archangel seemed not to notice him immediately, reading over a report of the heavens. Zachariah stood there awkwardly for a minute before clearing his throat. “Si-”

Michael cut him off, not even looking up from his work. “I see you, Zach. Tell me, how did convincing Dean Winchester go? Not well, I expect.”

The bored tone in his superior’s voice grated against Zachariah, but he didn't dare say anything.

Michael spoke up once again. “You’re smarter than I sometimes give you credit for. Most others would not think to put a filter on their speech.”

Zachariah gaped like a fish, not used to this sarcastic side of the archangel, but he eventually collected himself. “Yes, well, the venture did indeed...fail, and we lost two more soldiers.”

At this Michael’s head shot up, his attention finally gained. “What? Do not tell me you allowed the Winchesters to do this.”

Zachariah swallowed. “Er, no, it was, well, it was Castiel, sir.”

Michael jumped up, flying the short number of steps to invade Zachariah’s personal space. “What did you say?”

“Eh, Castiel’s back. He implied that...God resurrected him. He appeared and killed Manakel and Ramiel….sir, when he threatened me, his Grace, it changed.”

Michael grit his teeth, sighing inwardly as he moved back to a more appropriate distance. Oh, Castiel. “Changed how?”

“It, well, it resembled that of an archangel’s. I was just, well, I was just wondering if you knew anything about that. Do you...know anything about that?”

Michael looked at the lesser angel shrewdly. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing! I promise.”

Michael snorted, “Promises are for fools. They will be broken eventually. Nonetheless, I know nothing of Castiel’s power. Perhaps Father bestowed it upon him when he pulled him back from the Nothing. You may go.”

Zachariah gaped at his superior but did as he said.

As soon as the angel left, Michael’s face was overcome with a grin. For the first time in millennia, he had a chance at getting his family back. Castiel was not dead, and Lucifer, as corrupt (or not) as he may be, he was out of the cage. And maybe, just maybe, the apocalypse would draw out Gabriel and their Father.

 

Chuck sat at his computer, drink in hand. He heard his son’s involuntary prayer and almost flinched. Rising above the regular din of the pleas of humans, Michael called out to his Father, wishing for his family. Chuck, isolated in his house in suburbia, longed to reach out to his eldest son, to tell him it will all be ok. He nearly did, stopping himself just in time to remember that was not part of The Plan. It may hurt, but The Plan was the most important thing, will only ever be the most important thing, and The Plan did not say everything would be ok. It didn’t say anything like that at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was just wondering, how is the length? Too short, too long, just right? Please let me know. Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's early, but I'll be busy on Monday, so I have to post it today.

Castiel ducked under the blade of an angel, taking out his own. The angel stood bewildered for a second, and that second was all Castiel needed. He exploded upwards, ramming both his body and his blade into the other’s gut. A blinding light flashed, and Castiel took the opportunity to calm his shaking hands. He should be better than this, he was trained by the archangel Michael himself. 

That was the fourth angel that he had killed this week, and it was starting to take its toll. Castiel wanted so badly to go home, to rest, but because of the stupid naivety of his fellow angels, he couldn’t do so. Hands covered in blood, none of it his, he flew to the one place he knew he wouldn’t be discovered.

He arrived in an ancient pine forest, the scent immediately enveloping him in comfort. In all the dozens of millennia it had been since he had last breathed the fresh mountain air, the scenery had changed little. The pines still towered over his head, though not as much as they had when he was a fledgling. The lazy brook still tumbled down from the peaks, as fresh and clear as Castiel had first known it. Even the sky was the same color, the same cold clear blue, the same as his dad’s eyes were when he had taken him fly-

No.

That wasn’t a good idea. His breath caught in the back of his throat, and the edges of his vision blurred. The past was the past, and the present an entirely different thing. Bad things happened when they melded, and Cas had had enough bad luck for many lifetimes, he did not need anymore. Gathering his strength, Cas breathed in deeply, the pine scent calming his nerves. After a minute or two, he decided he was ready. He had a plan, he could do this.

 

Suddenly Castiel sensed an emotion tingling at the back of his head. Thinking that another angel or something equally difficult was nearby, he whirled around, blade out. After a long three minutes scanning the surrounding forest and finding it empty, Cas actually focused on the feeling, attempting to discern the origin. Expecting to find anger or hatred or fear, he was surprised to find...concern. Tilting his head, he quickly ran through the list of beings that might hold such an emotion for him. The list was small, only consisting of six, no, four, no, three people.

He doubted it was his father, seeing as he could just check on him whenever he liked, if he even knew Castiel was alive, so that left the Winchesters. Something warmed inside of him at the thought of the Winchesters having concern for him. Cas took out the phone Dean had given him and dialed, the phone ringing twice before it was answered. Sam’s voice crackled over the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Sam,”

“Castiel?”

“Where are you and Dean right now?”

“Uh...St. Martin’s hospital. Why? What are you- Cas?”

Cas hung up, flying at lightspeed to the given address. He could almost picture the Winchesters sharing a look of confusion, and he repressed a grin. The hospital has busy when Castiel arrived, and the archangel quickly honed in on Dean’s emotion, guiding him to the brothers. He wasn’t surprised to see them leaning on the doorway of a hospital room, because if they themselves weren’t injured, one of their friends was sure to be.

“Cell phone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?”

Castiel fought the urge to roll his eyes, softening his voice in a way that would hopefully make Dean understand. “You’re hidden from angels now-all angels. I won’t be able to simply-”

Bobby interrupted the angel, his voice grumpy and peevish. “Enough foreplay. Get over here and lay your damn hands on.”

Castiel didn’t move. It wasn’t because he couldn’t, he could, but even with archangel-like power, healing the hunter would weaken him. If he was a true archangel, created by the hands of God, being cut off from Heaven’s power would not matter, but he wasn’t a true archangel, so it did.

Bobby noticed Castiel’s stillness and wheeled around to face him. “Get to healing- _now_!”

“I-” Castiel cut himself off. He stared into space, his face a mask of indecision. Healing the man would weaken him, it would weaken him greatly, but he would recover. And Bobby was family, the same as Sam and Dean.

Dean, for once, glimpsed what Castiel was going through, and placed a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “You okay, Cas? You can heal Bobby, right?”

Sam winced at his brother’s choice of words. That wouldn’t make Cas feel any better.

Castiel cleared his thoughts. Dean needed him. A bitter thought forced its way to the front, whispering that Dean was just using him for his own benefit, but it was shoved away. How could he have ever been conflicted? His family needed him. “Of course, Bobby. My apologies.”

The angel stepped forward, brushing Bobby’s forehead with his hand. Almost immediately Bobby felt the bones in his legs knit back together. It was a strange feeling, not entirely pleasant but welcomed nonetheless.

The hunter rose from the wheelchair with ease. He looked at Castiel, about to say a word of thanks, but the angel wasn’t there. At least, he wasn’t where he was a few seconds before. Castiel sat on a chair in the corner, back leaning against the wall, face sweaty and pale.

It was Sam that spoke first. “Cas? Are you okay?”

Castiel nodded, a tiny, weak motion that contradicted the message he was trying to get across. “I’m fine, Sam. Thank you.” The angel heaved himself upward, stumbling a little before he regained his footing. He turned to Dean. “I don’t have much time. We need to talk.”

Dean looked at him questioningly. “Okay?”

Castiel inhaled sharply in preparation of his next words. “Your plan, to kill Lucifer,”

Dean rose his eyebrows. “Yeah, you wanna help?”

Castiel nearly growled. “No. It’s foolish, it can’t be done. No good will come of it.”

Dean sucked his teeth. “Oh. Well, thanks for the support. Anything else I should know?”

Castiel barely let Dean finish before he started speaking again, his voice firm. “But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Someone strong enough to stop the apocalypse.” Castiel couldn’t believe what he was saying. Yes, he wanted the fight to stop, but not the way the Winchesters were picturing it.

Sam tilted his head in curiosity. “Who’s that?”

“The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything,” Castiel took a breath, “God. I’m gonna find God.”

Castiel registered the brothers’ stares. This was the hard part, he knew. Sam would be the least difficult, the hunter having been somewhat of a tentative churchgoer, when he was in a town long enough, as a child. Castiel himself had heard some of the child’s prayers. Not directly, of course, but it hadn’t been hard to hear the boy’s anguished thoughts, even with all the other angry, bitter, questioning people. Sam was special, being Lucifer’s vessel, among other things.

Dean, however, Dean was an entirely different matter. Raised to depend on himself and himself only, he didn’t have time for some stupid religion with its made-up, invisible god. While Sam was left in a somewhat safe place, Dean had been right in the thick of it, often forced to face monsters on his own. John was there, of course, but the man couldn’t be depended on to cover Dean’s back every time he was in trouble. For the majority of his childhood and virtually all of his adulthood, Dean Winchester had been alone. Castiel knew that wouldn’t make his job, or his life, any easier.

Dean stared at him for a moment, disbelief clouding his eyes, before he turned around and shut the door. “God?”

“Yes.”

“God.”

“Yes. He isn’t in Heaven, He hasn’t been in a long time. He has to be somewhere.”

Dean got that little smirk on his face that told Castiel the hunter was going to say something the angel didn’t understand. “Try New Mexico. I hear he’s on a tortilla.” He was right.

Castiel tilted his head and squinted his eyes. “No, he’s not on any flatbread.”

Dean put up that mask of sarcasm and humor in an attempt to distance himself from the painful topic, but he might as well have not done it all. It would get ripped down in a moment. “Listen, chuckles, even if there _is_ a god, he’s either dead- and that’s the generous theory-”

“He is out there Dean.”

Dean continued as if the angel had never spoken. “Or he’s up and kicking and doesn’t give a rat’s ass about any of us.”

Castiel swallowed angrily, but when he spoke his voice was soft. “He has to. He has to care, or else this has all been one gigantic mistake. He has to have a plan, some end goal that justifies all of this.”

Dean shook his head, everything about him defiant and bitter. “Except maybe he doesn’t, Cas! Maybe he slipped up and has been too afraid to stand up and fix it. Maybe he’s a coward. I mean, look around you! The world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of days here, and he has done _nothing_!”

Castiel’s fists clenched and he grit his teeth, “Enough! This is- this is not a theological issue, it’s strategic. With God’s help, we _can_ win.” _I can get my family back_.

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “It’s a pipe dream, Cas.”

Castiel took a step toward the hunter, increasing the tension in the room. Sam and Bobby looked at each other. _This would have to stop_.

“I killed four angels this week. My family. I’m hunted. I rebelled, and I did it- all of it- for you. And you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world.” Castiel wanted to stop, to stop causing this hurt in Dean’s eyes, and now Sam’s, but it felt too good. He was finally letting all- _not_ \- of his frustration out, and it felt amazing. Dean needed to know what he did to him, how _betrayed_ the angel felt every time Dean refused to trust him. Every time Castiel killed, every time he snuck under the gaze of his father, every time he dropped everything, it was because of Dean. And it wasn’t fair what the man did to him.

“And I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.” Castiel glared at Dean, and the hunter managed to meet his eyes for a second or two. Then Dean’s resolve plummeted and he glanced down, not being able to withstand the heat of the angel’s gaze.

Finally, Bobby managed to lessen the tension somewhat. “So, Cas, I know you didn’t drop in just to tear us a new hole. What do you need?”

Moving away from Dean, Castiel responded to the older hunter. “I did come for something. An amulet.”

“An amulet? What kind?” Bobby’s interest was piqued and, even if he didn’t want to admit it, so was Dean’s.

Castiel relaxed a little. He was regaining control. “Very rare, very powerful. It burns hot in God’s presence. It’ll help me find him.”

Dean barely held back a scoff, but he did. Because Cas was his friend, even if he was a bit of an ass at times.

Sam shook his head in confusion. “A-a God EMF?”

Castiel didn’t really appreciate the comparison, but it was accurate. “If you like, yes.”

Bobby spoke again, “Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I got nothing like that.”

Castiel met his eyes. “I know. You don’t.” The angel’s eyes drifted to Dean, traveling lower to rest on his necklace. Dean followed his gaze, expression changing from blank curiosity to vivid panic in seconds.

“What, this? This is nothing, Sam gave it to me when we were kids.”

“May I borrow it?”

“No.”

Castiel remained steadfast, “Dean. Give it to me.” Dean looked at Cas in disbelief. “Please, Dean. I need it.”

Begrudgingly, after many moments of resistance, Dean lifted the cord over his head. “Alright, I guess. Don’t lose it.”

Castiel gingerly took the necklace from Dean. “I’ll be in touch. Thank you.”

With a whoosh, the angel was gone. Dean tried to ignore the pang he felt. He mostly succeeded.

 

When Castiel arrived back in the forest, Michael was waiting for him. “So, you’re alive.”

His son stiffened, “I was going to tell you.”

Michael shook his head. “Don’t lie to me Castiel, it doesn’t suit you.”

“But I’m not lying. I was going to tell you, that night, but...Raphael came. I couldn’t, I wasn’t going to reveal myself after that.”

Michael nodded, “This path you are going down, it is not the right one. Defending the humans, it is not the right choice. They are worthless. And what you did with Zachariah, it was foolish...he suspects you now.”

That got a reaction. “What?”

“He reported back to me, told me what happened. He said you revealed your power. I had to come up with some excuse, tell him that God gave it to you upon your resurrection. I don’t think he believed me.”

Castiel met Michael’s eyes, but there was more stubborn pain in them than defiance. “I’m sorry,” he bit out.

“No, you’re not.”

Castiel turned away to face the sky while Michael stayed behind him, watching. They stood in semi-relaxed silence for a few minutes before Michael spoke again. “You know I care about you, don’t you son?”

Castiel’s response was shaky. “Yes. Yes, I know.” He was talking to empty air.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

When he arrived in Hell, there was chaos. And he hadn’t even been gone that long. Honestly, as soon as this whole mess was sorted, demons would no longer be a problem on earth, or anywhere. Lucifer did give them a little credit, though, for as soon as he made himself known to the demons they immediately settled.

The best way to assess the ranks was to line them up. Most senior in the front and the newest and lowest in the back. It was a line several layers long. “How have Azazel and Lilith managed you?” The demons didn’t really answer, just shuffled their feet and bowed their heads submissively, which I suppose was answer enough.

The prince of darkness allowed himself a grin. At least some of his creations were capable.

Most of the demons were kept, but a few were cast out, and when he was asked where they were thrown, Lucifer stopped his inspection. “Heaven,” he said, and there was one single inhalation of breath as all demons gasped in what was mostly fear and partly disbelief.

One particularly stupid one had the brilliantly dim idea to question him. “You sent them to Heaven? So you’ve turned them back? To humans, I mean.”

A truly feral grin spread itself across Lucifer’s face. “Of course not. The angels will tear your siblings apart and feed on the excess energy. Don’t you know that’s what angels do? They tear you apart and leave you to die.”

Even though demons have unusually strong stomachs, that image caused a number of them to wince uncomfortably. No one spoke after that.

Well, not until a demon ran into the hall, his footsteps sounding eerily loud on the stone floor. Lucifer turned around, eyeing the demon in his meat-suit with calculated interest. The demon eyed Lucifer equally. “A deal took longer than I expected.” He offered the words as an explanation.

“Who are you?”

The demon seemed to fight what seemed like a smirk from appearing on his face. “The name’s Crowley. King of the Crossroads, Lilith’s former right-hand man. Or demon, if you prefer.”

Lucifer tilted his head. “Nothing after that? No sir, or your highness?”

Crowley shook his head, a sliver of amusement flashing behind his, now red, eyes. “Nothing like that. It’s just Crowley.”

Lucifer nodded, filing away this strange, possibly dangerous, demon for later reference. “Go stand in line, in between Meg and Merrick.”

Crowley did as he was told, nodding at Merrick and “accidentally” shoving Meg. Internally, Lucifer shook his head. It was times like these that he understood why his father left Heaven. If he had been capable, he would have done the same a long time ago.

 

The line took several more minutes to go through completely, a fact which was simultaneously reassuring and disheartening. On one hand, his army had grown quite a bit more than he was expecting, but on the other, so many had to be discarded because they were incompetent and dull. Of course, he couldn’t throw out all the stupid ones because then he’d only have, at the most, two dozen demons, but he could release the more severe cases.

After giving a list of instructions to the head demons, including, for some unfortunate reason, Crowley, Lucifer left Hell.

 

Lucifer was understandably angry when he discovered a few things were missing from his crypts. Mostly it was just a few weapons that were gone, but in the back was a Hand of God that wasn’t there, and that was worrying. His first thought was that his father discovered his crypts and took what he deemed dangerous, but that thought was quickly cast aside as Lucifer realized that most of the truly dangerous objects were still in place.

His thoughts next went to the archangels, working from eldest to youngest, but again, no obvious reason for stealing any of the objects came to him. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but Lucifer doubted Gabriel would have worked up the courage to break into one of his lesser crypts, never mind the more important ones that held the various Hands of God that he owned. Gabriel was smart, sure, and tricky enough to break in, but Lucifer had known his brother as a child, and, trust him when he says this, Gabriel was a coward.

That left only the demons as candidates for the thieves. Of course, he couldn’t be sure of any of these assumptions, he didn’t have enough information.

Once again, he went through the list of resources he could pull from.

He would have once considered the angels, but that, of course, was a marvelously stupid idea. Gabriel could be considered, but only as a last resort, for even though Gabriel had left Heaven long ago, he was still more loyal to that side of the scale than the other. And their meeting would probably end in a fight because Gabriel wasn’t brave, but he _could_ be incredibly foolish, and standing up to someone clearly more powerful than you sounded exactly like a foolish thing Gabriel would do.

There were the demons, the Knights of Hell and such, not the new ones, but Lucifer had to emit an aura of supreme control and power. Asking his insubordinates for information would be the death of him, both literally and figuratively. Demons, when left unchecked, were like rabid dogs. They would fight and howl and backstab until one of them made their way to the top and forced the others to obey them.

Cain was...different. He was the first Knight of Hell, and the second demon to be created. That, combined with him being somewhat removed from the demonic community, made him an ideal option for information. Still though, Lucifer preferred to remain in a position of obvious power, even to his most loyal and closest followers.

Then there was the ultimate history book. The angel almost laughed aloud at the absurd thought. Some demons and even most angels would think it an even bigger betrayal, an even more blasphemous act. But his father and his brothers would know the truth. Lucifer had too much pride to enter a building meant for his father, to learn from his father’s words. And yet…

 

In the end, he chose a church just outside of Chicago. It was small, with a moderate altar and a few rows of pews. The pastor was a man in his 70s, a kind man with a stable family and a stable place in the economy. Lucifer briefly contemplated how rare he was, a man that was healthy and supported and faithful. Truly a rare find.

Clearing his thoughts, Lucifer opened the door of the church. It’s hard to completely disregard thousands of years of faith and worship. Lucifer remembered that as he stepped into the building. And he didn’t even have to go in, he could’ve just summoned the book, which would’ve been crazy enough. But as much as Lucifer didn’t want to admit it, he missed the safety of his father’s religion. His father loved and defended, but all Lucifer did was take and destroy.

Running a hand through his hair, a disgustingly human trait he had picked up, Lucifer properly entered the church, closing the door behind him with a _clunk_.

The pastor, a man named Albert, looked up at the sound. “Hello, son. What’s your business here?”

Lucifer swallowed, a knot of uncertainty rising up from somewhere. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I was, well, I was wondering…” Lucifer trailed off as another thought occurred to him. Swallowing his fear, he spoke again. “I was wondering how you deal with it, the temptation?”

Albert looked at him, a curious expression on his face, and Lucifer was immediately on the defensive. However, the man just opened his mouth and spoke a single verse. “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”

Lucifer tilted his head, it was obviously a Bible verse, but it was only relatable to humans, right?

Albert smiled a little, as if to offer reassurance. “1 Corinthians 10:13,”

“Riiiight, and how does that help me? What if I’ve already given in? Will He let me go back?” His words were bordering on being too real, and he tried to distance himself from the words, but of course it didn’t work.

With a slightly sadder smile, Albert reached for a book just out of sight, though Lucifer knew what his hand touched before it was shown to him.

“Take this, and may it help you on your journey.”

Lucifer barely refrained a snort. The ones who relied just on the Bible had always irritated him. Nonetheless, he had gotten what he had come for. After a whispered word of thanks that seemed to physically hurt, Lucifer had finally made it to the door. Just as reached the boundary between the safe inside and the dark outside, he sent a thought spiraling to his father. “Sorry,”

Albert fell to the floor behind him, his neck twisted to an impossible angle.

 

Back in his oldest crypt, the only place he could be safe from all manner of interruption, Lucifer settled down in a mass of old blankets to read his father’s words. What? He could be evil, but he was still an angel, and angels are most comfortable in a nest. Of course, this tattered pile couldn’t compare to his nest with Michael. Back in Heaven, his nest had been a mix of feathers and silk and Michael. In the back of his mind, Lucifer wondered if Michael still slept in the same nest or if he had scrapped it when Lucifer had fallen. With a sigh, Lucifer threw the book down, the leather cover crashing to the dusty floor. He paced back and forth in the enclosed space, once again running a hand through his hair. A growl of frustration left the angel as he struck the wall next to him; when he pulled away a sizable dent was left in the concrete. Stumbling back, he slumped to the pile of blankets. What was he doing?

 

In a different realm, Michael sat heavily in a chair, his muscles tense and coiled as they had usually been in recent days. It had been a difficult few weeks, what with demon attacks and Raphael being disobedient and Castiel being a complete idiot. Angels didn’t need to sleep, and it was for that reason that finding even five minutes rest is nigh impossible, because why do you need to rest if you cannot tire? Luckily, he had managed to endure long enough to tell the lesser angels off and gain a few hours peace in his quarters. Wearily, Michael tumbled into his nest. It had stopped smelling like Lucifer long ago.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

When he thought about it, really thought about it, Lucifer supposed it wasn’t right to torment his brother’s Destined. He knew what Sam Winchester was as soon as he glimpsed his vessel’s soul. It was a cruel twist of fate, but she was hardly ever kind. The hunter was the true vessel of Lucifer, that much was obvious, but hidden underneath that was another, equally important title.

Angels have a unique ability to be destined for one being. Once an angel is created, their Destined is determined by something other than God. Something similar to Death, though she refuses the comparison to this day. They meet for pizza occasionally.

Anyway, when Lucifer’s brother was created, Sam Winchester’s soul, or what would become his soul, was bound to his. And then there was the matter of Sam being the vessel. In order to walk the earth, Lucifer needed a vessel, one that could handle his power, even if he rather not hurt the boy. That, and Lucifer would prefer his younger brother _not_ to kill him for possessing his Destined. Not that he could, Lucifer had taught him all of his tricks.

So when a lonely Winchester woke to see his long-dead girlfriend, Lucifer was loathe to reveal his identity. He talked to Sam, getting inside his head and learning how to convince him to say yes. Unsurprisingly, Sam’s weakness was his brother.

For the thousandth time, Lucifer wished he didn’t have to do this, but there was no point in resisting. If he surrendered to Heaven, he would be killed. If he did nothing, he would be found, most likely by the Winchesters, and then killed. His only choice was to continue as he was doing. Lucifer always followed Michael in everything he did. This was no different. Michael wished to play this sick game? Very well, Lucifer would follow his brother in this too.

So Lucifer wheedled at the man’s thoughts, twisting him and confusing him and clearing the path for the vessel to say yes. He planned to do this as long as it took, to keep the Winchester in a state of unconsciousness as long as necessary, but he would be cut short, as it usually was with the supposed villains of the world.

 

Dean stood in front of the motel’s mirror, dabbing water on the blood of his beloved jacket. It was beloved only because he liked the style, really it was the 5th of its kind. His jackets were too often ripped to shreds and stained irreparably. There was no time to become attached to a specific article of clothing, nor was there money enough to repair each one. This one _was_ special though, it had lasted seven whole months, a new record.

The room was eerily quiet. Usually there was the hum of a laptop or the rush of shower water or the soft lull of Sam’s idiotic pop music. Now there was nothing. Silence dominated the room, and now that Dean had turned off the water, the whole feeling of the room seemed off. It was too quiet, too empty.

The hunter moved to turn the water back on to wet the rag again, but a face in the mirror stopped him. “God! Don’t do that!” Dean said, pounding on the sink.

Castiel’s brows furrowed in confusion. Was Dean still upset at him for last time? “Hello, Dean.”

The hunter turned to face the angel and froze when he noticed Castiel’s face was mere inches away from his own. He swallowed. “Cas...we’ve talked about this. Personal space?”

Castiel glanced down slightly then back up to Dean's eyes. “My apologies,” he said gruffly, stepping away.

Dean sighed, nodded, grabbed his jacket. He walked toward his bed, folding the mostly-clean jacket as he went. “How’d you find me? I thought I was flying below the angel radar.”

“You are,” Castiel responded, looking around. The room was suspiciously different, devoid of the usual details that usually designated the existence of another inhabitant. There was only one bed, for one thing, and the bag that sat on Dean’s bed was not accompanied by another. “Bobby told me where you were.”

Dean scoffed. Of course he had. The man had no sense of space, after all.

Castiel looked frantically around the room, trying to contain the worry and curiosity welling up inside of him. “Where’s Sam?”

Dean didn’t quite succeed in holding back his scoff, stilling in his packing for a moment. “Me and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while.” He shrugged his jacket on. “So…did you find God yet?” Dean asked, flippant sarcasm bleeding into his voice. He turned to the angel, annoyance flicking across his face. “More importantly, can I have my damn necklace back, please?”

Castiel stared at him, carefully keeping his mask up as unwanted feelings of hurt filled him. “No, I haven’t found him. That’s why I’m here.”

Dean acted nonchalant, rolling up his sleeves. “With what, a God hunt? I’m not interested.”

Castiel repressed an eye roll. If only Dean would get his head out of his ass and realize he could help more if he just went along with Castiel’s plan. Besides, Castiel couldn’t do this without Dean. “It’s not God. It’s someone else.”

Dean looked up then, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who?”

Castiel stepped closer to the hunter. “It’s an archangel. The one who killed me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

The angel inwardly sighed. “His name is Raphael.”

The hunter’s eyes filled with confusion. “You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?”

“I’ve heard whispers that he’s walking the earth,” Castiel continued like Dean hadn’t spoken. “This is a rare opportunity.”

“For what, revenge?”

“Information,” but a voice inside agreed with Dean, that he should hurt Raphael as much as he can while he’s able. Castiel shut the thought down quickly.

Dean shook his head, walking past Castiel to the sink. “So, what - you think if we find this dude, he’s just gonna spill God’s address?”

“Yes. Because _we_ are gonna trap him and interrogate him.”

Dean turned around to look at Cas only to find the angel facing away from him. “You’re serious about this.”

Finally, a breakthrough. Castiel turned to look Dean in the eyes, to convey exactly how serious he was. “Yes,”

“So, what,” Dean said walking forward. “I’m Thelma and you’re Louise, and we’re just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?”

Castiel stared at him and squinted his eyes.

Dean sighed and his mouth tightened to form a line; his joking aura slipped away. “Give me one good reason why I should do this,”

Castiel paused, thought on it for a moment, said something he wasn’t intending to say. “Because you’re my friend. And I thought friends helped one another.”

Dean looked at him. He hadn’t been expecting that. “They do, but, Cas, the world doesn’t work like that.”

Another head tilt. “Why not?”

And the words sounded so sincere, so confused, that Dean made up his mind then and there. He sighed before he said it though, convincing himself he wasn’t about to make a mistake. “I’ll help, Cas. Whatever you need me for, I’m there.”

Castiel was taken aback. He nodded curtly, not letting the hunter see his reaction.“Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Dean said, “where is he?”

“Maine,” the angel responded and raised a hand to fly them to the aforementioned destination.

Dean knew he should stop him. Say something, protest. After all, the last time Castiel flew him somewhere it took an uncomfortably long time for his bowels to work again. But...he didn't. He let Castiel place two fingers on his forehead and fly him however-many-miles to some place in Maine. Trust is a funny thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a bit of risk with this chapter. Changed up the script...quite a bit, actually. Enjoy!

When Castiel stepped into the room, something inside him jolted. _Raphael_. The archangel was there. “Dean, wait,” Castiel called out, his voice rushed with urgency as he threw an arm out to keep the hunter back. No sooner were the words out of his mouth and his foot in the door that the room burst into light. There was a crackling of electricity and the room was cast in blue, shadows dancing on the walls.  

“Castiel,” the archangel said, shifting his stance to fill with intimidation.

“Raphael,” Castiel ground out. He walked forward, toward his uncle. He wasn’t expecting Dean to say something reckless. Then again, it _was_ Dean.

“I mean, I thought you were supposed to be impressive. All you do is blackout the room?” The words were brave, that was true, but tremors could be detected in Dean’s psyche. He was nervous. Very much so.

“And the eastern seaboard,” Raphael said.

All right, Dean thought. The man’s got some power. No big deal though. None at all. They had a plan.

“It is a testament to my unending mercy that I don’t smite you here and now.”

Castiel clenched his fist, prepared to move between Dean and Raphael if necessary. Again, the hunter surprised him.

“Or maybe you’re full of crap,” Dean snarked. Still, his eyes darted to Castiel, as if to reassure himself that safety was only a few feet away. “Maybe you’re afraid that God will bring Cas back to life again and smite _you_ , you candy-ass skirt.”

As Dean’s words sunk into his brain, Castiel was filled with a warmth he couldn’t really place.

“By the way, hi. I’m Dean.

Castiel couldn’t resist a smirk. There was that hunter he knew.

“I know who you are,” Raphael said, the archangel’s sharp tone causing Dean’s joking facade to fade. “And now, thanks to that little angel, I know _where_ you are.”

Anger welled up in Castiel, and the angel had to forcibly push his Grace back down. “You won’t kill him. You won’t even touch him. You wouldn’t dare. Michael would kill you.”

Dean looked sharply at Castiel. Why would Michael disapprove of his vessel being delivered to him? The angels ignored him.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I would still have leverage either way.”

Dean huffed, trying to insert some of his normal flippancy into his voice. It didn’t really work. “Well, that sounds terrifying. Truly. But, uh, I hate to tell you...I’m not going anywhere with you.” He grabbed a beer from the cooler, using the task of opening the bottle as an excuse to hide his shaking hands.

“Surely you remember Zachariah giving you stomach cancer.”

Dean swallowed uneasily, and Castiel was almost shaking with anger. It was ok though. This was all...part of the plan.

“Yeah, that was--that was hilarious.”

“Yes, well--I can assure you he doesn’t have anything close to _my_ imagination,” the archangel said, approaching, his footfalls heavy and intent.

“Oh yeah?” Dean responded, his eyes darting to Raphael’s feet and then to Cas. “I bet you didn’t imagine one thing?”

“What?” Raphael snapped. He was tiring of these games. Time to get the Winchester and get out.

“We knew you were coming, you stupid son of a bitch.”

Raphael didn’t have time to move as Castiel ignited the lighter and let it fall onto the ring of holy oil. Dean and Castiel watched in relief as the fire spread. Their plan had worked.

The archangel glared at Dean, the full force of his hatred pouring into his glare.

Dean swallowed. “Hey, don’t look at me, it was _his_ idea!”

Castiel looked at him. Gee, thanks, Dean.

They shared a look, and as Castiel glanced into the hunter’s eyes, his anger faded. He understood. This was a defense mechanism. Dean was doing what he always did when he was scared, making light of a serious situation. Well, if Dean was on edge, Castiel would take care of this. No reason for the human to have any more stress than necessary.

“Where is he?”

“God?” Raphael said, his eyes showing the archangel’s equivalent of maniacal laughter. “Didn’t you hear? He’s dead, Castiel. _Dead_.”

No. No, God couldn’t be dead. Castiel needed Him. He...he needed Him to _fix_ things. How else were things supposed to go back to the way they were before? “I don’t believe you.”

If Raphael had been more human, he would have sighed. “There’s no other explanation, Castiel! He’s gone. For good.”

Castiel almost shook with his efforts to restrain himself from leaping at his uncle. Even contained by holy fire, Castiel had no chance of winning. “You’re lying,” he ground out.

“Am I?” Raphael said, with the head tilt that had become the trademark of the angels. “Do you remember the 20th century? Do you think the 21st is going any better? Do you _really_  think God would have let any of that happen if He were alive?”

Well, Castiel couldn’t deny that.

Again, Dean surprised him and, again, that warmth filled the angel. “Oh yeah? Well then, who invented the Chinese basket trick?”

Well. Maybe that was a bit too far on Dean’s part, Castiel thought. Raphael agreed.

“Careful. That’s my Father you’re talking about, boy.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, who would be _so_ proud to know that his sons started the friggin’ Apocalypse.”

“Who ran off and disappeared. Who left no instructions and a world to run.”

“So Daddy ran away and disappeared? He didn’t happen to work for the post office, did he?”

“This is funny to you?” And if Castiel hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought Raphael sounded...sad. “You’re living in a Godless universe.”

Still, Dean would not give in now. “And? What--you and the other kids just decided to throw an apocalypse while he’s gone?”

“It was not our choice!” Raphael yelled, finally breaking through the wall he had built, letting the windows shatter. “Do you think I like chasing down my brothers? Do you think I enjoy hurting my family? This has all been written down millennia ago. By God! We have no choice!”

No. Castiel refused to believe it. God would not want this. He would not order this. At least, not the God that he remembered. “You _always_ have a choice!” Castiel said back, because what else could he say? His beliefs were already being burned.

“Not in this, Castiel,” Raphael replied, his voice much softer now. “My Father is dead, and soon, yours will be too. It’s only a matter of time. Michael will smite him.”

It took everything Castiel had in him not to either attack Raphael or flee. His uncle was wrong. They...his parents wouldn’t hurt each other. Not if Castiel had anything to say about it. “If God is dead, why have I returned? Who brought me back?”

This was sure to stump him. Sure to.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you? That maybe he wanted his boy back in his clutches?”

Or not.

Castiel jerked his head to the side, almost violently. How dare he? How dare he insult his father like that? Yes, Lucifer had fallen, but they were still family. To angels, that was supposed to mean something. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

“Really? Think about it. He needs all the rebellious little angels he can find. And you, he knows your power. That’s all he’d use you for.”

Castiel swallowed. He wasn’t going to listen to his uncle. Nothing good would come of it. He looked at Dean, noting the confusion on the hunter’s face and making a quick mental note to make up some story to explain Raphael’s comments. “Let’s go,”

Again, that warming pride when he heard Dean’s footsteps fall in immediately behind his. It was quickly swept away by his uncle’s next words.

“Castiel. I’m warning you. Do not leave me here. I will find you. And I _will_ punish you.”

Swallowing back his fear, Castiel stepped forward, acting almost threatening. “Maybe one day. We’ll see. But today, you’re _my_ little bitch.”

Then he turned and left the house, Dean Winchester following close behind his angel.

* * *

“So, this is your life now? You think you can just live forever with your head buried in the sand?”

Sam didn’t reply. He looked down, his eyes dark and shameful.

Lucifer sighed. Soon enough, he would be able to shed this act and talk to Sam face to face. “I wish you could, Sam. It would be so much easier for you. But you can’t. You have a destiny, and you have to pick a side.”

“Why? Why can’t a just change for the better? Why can’t I just leave my old life behind?”

Here goes nothing. Lucifer let the illusion of Jessica unravel. “Because you freed me.”

Sam looked up, startled, and leapt off the bed. He panted in horror. How could he be here? “Lucifer,”

“You’re a hard one to find, Sam. I have to hand it to Castiel, he did a wonderful job of hiding you. Well, of course he did. He better have.”

“What do you want with me?” Sam asked, breathless with fear and confusion. What did the Devil know about Cas?

“Thanks to you, I walk the earth.” _I have a second chance at finding my family._ “I want to give you a gift.”

“I don’t want _anything_ from you,” Sam snarled, hot anger consuming him.

“Just simple protection, really. Nothing too fancy. Well, I say that. It’ll keep you and your brother away from the angels.” Lucifer continued, acting as if the hunter hadn’t spoken.

“Why? Why would you bother?”

Lucifer sighed. “Why do you think you were in that chapel? You’re the one, Sam. My true vessel. And while I would rather us just go our separate ways, I can’t allow that. Nick here is crumbling. I need you.”

“No,” Sam said, swallowing around the fear that was tightening his throat.

“Yes.”

“No. That’ll never happen.”

“I’m sorry Sam, but it will. I will find you, and when I do, you will let me in.”

Wait, wait, wait. What? “You need my consent?” Sam asked.

What was it with humans and their slow wit? “Of course. I am an angel, after all.”

Sam chuckled lightly. Thank God. Something. “I will kill myself before letting you in.”

“Now, now. You can’t do that. Gabriel certainly wouldn’t approve. Besides, I would just bring you back.”

An inhale of horror from Sam.

A sigh from Lucifer. “Sam. Sammy Sam. My heart _breaks_ for you. The weight on your shoulders. What you’ve done. What you still have to do. It’s more than anyone should have to bear.” He looked away.

Sam was breathing heavily, shocked into silence.

“If there was some other way...but there isn’t. You _will_ say yes to me.”

The hunter finally seemed to regain his tongue. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m not. I think I know you better than you know yourself. You’ll do anything to protect your family. I understand that.”

Sam shook his head, trying to dispel rebellious tears. “Why me?” he asked, his voice breaking.

If only Michael would just realize they didn’t have to follow their Father’s ridiculous, age-old Plan. It would save Lucifer a lot of trouble. “Think about my offer, Sam. Your family and friends, safe.”

Sam blinked, and Lucifer was gone. The hunter was left alone in a dark room, his pulse racing and his breathing hard. He glanced at the clock on the table. It read two AM. No more sleep would come to him that night.

So he was the vessel. Lucifer’s vessel. What were the chances of that? Dean was Michael’s and Sam was Lucifer’s. If Sam believed in fate, he would have thought she had it out for him. And why was Lucifer talking about Gabriel? What the hell did the archangel have to do with _him_?

* * *

Raphael paced within his bounds. Damn Winchesters. Damn Castiel. His nephew had caused nothing but trouble since he’d been born all those millennia ago. Upsetting the balance of Heaven. Twisting Lucifer’s loyalties. If only the angel had stayed dead.

A fluttering of wings came from the corner of the room. Raphael quickly shook himself from his thoughts and whirled around. “Who’s there?” he called out into the darkness. “Show yourself!”

A low chuckle reverberated around the room. “Hey bro. You gotta admit, little Cas has grown up. He’s got guts. I mean, confronting you, with no guarantee you wouldn’t attack on sight. Pretty brave.”

Raphael gritted his teeth, pressed his lips together. “Gabriel. Brother, you have to let me out of here.”

A figure moved into the light, the flames from the ring of fire lighting up his face, bringing into relief a kind of leering malice. “I do? I don’t really think I _have_ to do anything. It’s not like _I’m_ the one surrounded by holy fire.”

A coil of unease began to stir in Raphael.“Gabriel? I know we haven’t spoken for a long time, but we’re family. Brothers.” Raphael shifted. No. Gabriel was his last hope for an ally. He had to help him.

“Family? That’s a...funny choice of words, don’t you think? I mean, considering you killed Castiel and manipulated Michael.”

Or not. “Brother…”

“No! You’ve hurt too many of us, Raphael. I can’t allow that anymore.” From behind his back, Gabriel drew a staff, ornately carved.

A chill ran through Raphael. The Rod of Aaron. That hadn’t been seen in...ages. Not since Lucifer stole it, anyway. How had Gabriel gotten it? “Brother, be reasonable. You need me.”

“Actually, Raph, I don’t. None of us do. You’ve already caused so much pain.”

“Gabe...please.”

Gabriel looked away, a single tear running down his cheek. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” He gripped the staff tighter, his eyes starting to glow that white-hot angel glow. He extended his hands and pretended not to hear his brother’s screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
